


Later

by patchfire, raving_liberal



Series: Before, After, During [11]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alive Finn Hudson, Correspondence, Gen, Letters, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:17:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1606523
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/patchfire/pseuds/patchfire, https://archiveofourown.org/users/raving_liberal/pseuds/raving_liberal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noah's last name may be Hansen, but there are still few rules he's not willing to at least bend.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Later

It takes him a good eight or nine months to start thinking of himself as ‘Noah’. The name ‘Puck’ has to leave; he can’t think of himself as Puck or refer to himself as Puck. Even though he’s been Noah at work since he arrived in Boise, it still takes awhile. He shifts to calling Finn Isaac quickly, but in _Noah’s_ head, Finn is sometimes still Finn. He just never says it out loud, not even in a whisper. 

After all, Finn and Puck don’t exist, not anymore. Puck lost his best friend, and felt like he lost everything. Isaac and Noah Hansen, though; they exist. They have a nice life, if quiet. Slowly, through the years, they make some good friends. They both take classes at Boise State and eventually graduate. They have an actual wedding ceremony when marriage equality comes to Idaho—their first, even if all their friends think it’s the second one. They talk about going into business for themselves, even, between Noah’s experience at the hardware store and Isaac’s on-site experience. 

Noah sets a few rules for them, a year or so after he first arrived in Boise. Vacations anywhere in the United States, with three exceptions: Ohio, for obvious reasons; Walt Disney World, because that’s where any of their old classmates would take their kids, not Disneyland; and New York City, because Noah figures his luck is that they’d bump into a mini-New Directions reunion, Kurt and Rachel and Quinn and Santana and Blaine and who knows who else, all at once. They still do open mike nights, but Noah pretends like he was never Jewish. They definitely don’t root for any Ohio sports teams, or even midwestern ones. The way Noah looks at it, though, they aren’t at high risk of being found.

Which is why, thirteen years after graduation and more than twelve years after he arrived in Boise, Noah makes a long detour from their vacation to drive into New Mexico, just to mail something. 

 

Shannon had stayed on at McKinley. Even after the glee club’s demise followed Finn Hudson’s death, even under Sue Sylvester’s leadership, Shannon had thought that she was needed at McKinley. She had coached the football team, taught some P.E. classes, and left her door open to anyone who needed her, the kids who would have been in the glee club, the ones that needed someone else. Kids like Noah Puckerman, who had disappeared months after his best friend had died. Shannon still feels, sometimes, that she hadn’t done enough, even though he wasn’t her student any longer at that point. 

“Morning, Coach.” 

“I’ve told you, you’re my colleague, call me Shannon,” Shannon insists with a grin. “ _Mr. Puckerman_.” 

“You got me the job,” Jake says, sitting down at her table in the teacher’s lounge. He wasn’t wrong, either; when Sue had been tapped as a superintendent at a neighboring school district and replaced with a young new principal, Shannon had campaigned for restoration of the glee club. More than that, she had argued for a full offering of performing arts courses and a teacher devoted to them. 

Principal Baker had agreed immediately, restored the funding, and started listing the courses she wanted this new teacher to offer. Shannon had volunteered to find the teacher, knowing just who she wanted. 

Jake Puckerman had been in his last semester of college, and Shannon had announced he was getting certified as a teacher as soon as possible. Nine months later, McKinley had started offering two dance courses, two drama courses, an open-to-everyone glee club, and, once again, an audition-only show choir called New Directions.

“Which just means you should offer me baked goods,” Shannon says good-naturedly. “Congratulations on the Sectionals win, by the way.” 

Jake grins and takes a sip of his coffee. “Thanks. Meeting every day as a class plus one after school rehearsal a week sure does make a difference. I’m giving them this week off.” 

“Musical on DVD or past performances.” 

“We already watched the final Broadway performance of _Rent_ after Invitationals,” Jake answers. “It’s time for all the past performances of New Directions. It’s tradition, after all.” 

Shannon nods. Jake winces a little, and she knows it’s not easy for him to watch the first four years of New Directions performances. The first three years with his brother, and the fourth year reminds Jake, he told her once, of not just his brother but of Finn, too, in a way that the performances with Finn don’t. Still, like Jake said, it’s tradition, and he knows he’ll play them. 

“I shouldn’t really miss someone I only knew for about a year,” Jake says with a snort. “I guess it’s just the way he disappeared.” 

“He was still your brother,” Shannon says. “I think you’re allowed to miss him. Allowed to wonder, too.” 

The first year that Jake worked at McKinley, Shannon had actually hired a P.I. She too had been curious for years, and even if it turned out Noah Puckerman was dead somewhere, the closure would be something. The trail went cold in Cleveland in September of 2013, even though his mother and Jake both remembered hearing from him until December of 2013 or maybe even January of 2014. There was no sign of Noah Puckerman after he closed his bank account in Cleveland, not even an indication of what way he drove or what he had driven. He had driven out of Ohio, presumably, and out of their lives completely. 

“Yeah, that’s true.” Jake musters a slight smile and shrugs.

“Shannon, you have some mail,” Principal Baker says behind Shannon. “It came on Saturday, I guess. Coach Shannon Beiste, care of McKinley High School. It looks like a Christmas card!” 

Shannon takes the red envelope curiously, looking at the front. The address is just as Principal Baker said, but there’s no return address, and the postmark says Gallup, New Mexico. “I don’t know anyone in New Mexico,” she says out loud, and Jake laughs. 

“Maybe it’s a mystery admirer,” Jake says. “Or a former student.” 

“Maybe,” Shannon says doubtfully, opening the envelope carefully. There’s a generic card inside that reads ‘Thanks’, and when she opens it, a small sheet of folded paper falls out. She sets that down and turns her attention to the writing on the inside of the card. It looks familiar in a way she can’t place, like writing she hasn’t seen in a very long. 

_Dear Coach,_

_It’s been long enough I guess I felt safe writing this, and I make the rules about this kind of thing. Obviously, I’m alive, whatever anyone assumed._

Shannon stops reading, feeling a chill wash over her. “Jake,” she says softly. 

“What?”

“Nevermind,” Shannon says quickly, shaking her head. “I’m probably wrong.” She drops her eyes back to the writing, continuing to read. 

_We were on vacation, so it seemed like a good opportunity. And I’ve tried to think of a lot of ways to say this. First of all, thank you. For senior year, and for spring of ‘13._

Shannon closes her eyes, almost sure she knows what she’d see at the bottom of the card, but she doesn’t let herself look when she reopens her eyes and continues reading. 

_I don’t have to be my own quarterback. F & I are doing fine._ Shannon puts her hand to her mouth at that, reading the signature quickly. _Noah_. 

“Oh my God,” Shannon murmurs. 

“Coach? Are you okay?” Jake asks urgently. 

“I—yes.” Shannon sets the card down, unfolding the other sheet of paper. “I’ll explain in a moment,” she promises. The paper just says _This is probably ill-advised_ with a scratched-out internet address. Shannon frowns but goes to the address on her phone, nearly dropping it when the picture appears. 

The two men standing in front of the Grand Canyon are older. In their thirties now, she has to acknowledge in her mind. They look far different than when she last saw either of them, and she can’t explain how one of them is someone who she thought was _dead_ , but they are indisputably Noah Puckerman and Finn Hudson. 

“How’s your heart?” she jokes to Jake, but the joke falls flat. 

“What is it?” Jake insists. 

“The card… it’s from your brother,” she admits. “He mailed it while he was on vacation, of all things.” 

“My brother,” Jake says flatly, but he reaches for the card slowly. “It is his handwriting,” he says quietly. “What does he mean by ‘his own quarterback’? Who is ‘F’?”

“Seriously, how _is_ your heart?” Shannon says, putting her phone on the table and sliding it towards Jake. Jake’s eyes widen and he stares at the phone without moving. 

“I don’t understand.” Jake says after several moments. “That’s… that’s my brother. And. I’m seeing things, right?” 

Shannon takes a deep breath. “I hired a P.I. once, to look for Noah.” 

“You did?” Jake looks up sharply. “You’ve known where he was all this time?”

“No!” Shannon says, shaking her head. “No, that was the weird thing, Jake. He disappeared off any records at the beginning of September of 2013, when he left Cleveland.” 

“I talked to him for at least a few months after that,” Jake insists. “We laughed about Thanksgivukkah.” 

“I know. I know,” Shannon says with a nod. “I thought… a little part of me hoped there was a reason for the discrepancy. For whatever reason, they’re not supposed to have contacted anyone. But I am really, really glad that they did.” 

“Like they’re in hiding or something?” Jake asks, shaking his head. “Wow. So… you think he knew all along?” 

“I don’t know,” Shannon admits with a frown. “His grief seemed too genuine. Your brother wasn’t that good of an actor. Isn’t. Unless he really has improved.” 

Jake laughs at that, pushing the phone back to Shannon. “Thank you,” he says gratefully. “I know I can’t say anything to anyone, but it really does make a difference.” 

“You’re welcome,” Shannon says, knowing she would have sought Jake out if he hadn’t been sitting across from her in the break room when she read the card. She carefully puts the paper back in the card, then the card in the envelope. She’ll keep it on her at all times, until she can lock it away at home. 

It’s a good thing she stayed on at McKinley.


End file.
